


Blurred Alleyways

by SprungSick



Series: FOV: 0 [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, I mean I'm not but we all are yup, It never is lmao-, Minor Violence, Not Beta Read, Pretty action focused now that i think about it-, Schlatt is retired in the woods don't @ me, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit Friendship, Tommy is Vibing sir, Tommy is nearsighted what will he do, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), We're all just vibing, they're best friends your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SprungSick/pseuds/SprungSick
Summary: Phil decided that they should all have a conversation concerning the events of the tournament. Tommy decided that Phil was a little bitch.Like everything else that concerned him, it spiraled out of proportion.(A continuations of Fuzzy Dandelions)
Relationships: Jschlatt & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s), Screw that we hate that, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: FOV: 0 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078319
Comments: 128
Kudos: 673
Collections: MCYT Fic Rec





	Blurred Alleyways

**Author's Note:**

> TW/CW: Slight injury, Implied Claustrophobia 
> 
> Haha hey all come get y'all blind Tommy juice

Apparently, Techno could be a tenacious bastard.

He didn’t realize the extent of Techno’s ruthless searching or how the dumb fuck managed to appear around every corner. To be fair to himself, he knew why - despite the soft, endearing center he revealed to a select few, Techno never prodded for information that wouldn’t directly affect him. He respected that aspect of him. A part of him wished he could adopt the same mentality - getting up in other people’s business had given him a few too many scars. 

Turns out, Techno decided to break his long record of indifference. Phil absolutely played a role in this uncharacteristic hunt. If Techno’s irritated quips hadn’t already clued him in, his outright statement of their agreement certainly did. 

Fuck Philza. 

He was running out of hiding spots. 

Techno just seemed to appear everywhere he went, deathly quick hands and a slightly maniacal smirk his only equipment. He seemed to have even memorized Tommy’s usual tactics - when he tried to lay low by climbing the side of an aqueduct, Techno barely let him move two paces before poking him with a stick. Damnit, he even had to resort to hiding in the floorboards of Tubbo’s house. Nearly forgotten instincts quickly became his only weapon for survival. 

He contemplated giving up and letting Techno take him to Phil - he didn’t understand why Phil seemed so determined, but it would be nice to be able to take normal routes in the streets. 

Then, he looked at Tubbo’s wide grin. Tubbo’s exhilarated laughter as they just barely made it out of Techno’s grasp. Tubbo’s infectious, unrestrained cheer. 

Besides, he was having a lot of fun. 

The next time Techno appeared, he ran with a taunt on his lips. 

*** 

Somehow, they managed to find a moment of respite. 

Sitting against the edge of one of the city’s fountains, Tommy could see bright spots of color interrupting the blue sky; he assumed them to be lanterns, memories of afternoons folding paper with Tubbo supplying what his eyes couldn’t. With the bright, upbeat melodies wandering senselessly in the air, he almost forgot to keep his guard up. 

Almost. 

He held himself tensely, Tubbo doing the same. They both scanned their surroundings - well, Tubbo searched and Tommy imitated - periodically, the warm city hues doing little to melt the cold in their stares. Tommy jumped at nearly every new figure in his vision. 

In essence, they looked downright suspicious. However, it did little to deter them from contributing to their important conversation. 

“Apples aren’t a fucking fruit,” Tommy screeched tersely, voice barely rising over the regular city chatter. Both Tubbo and Wilbur looked one second away from tugging the hairs off of his head in an attempt to revive any coherent thought. 

“You fucking child,” Wilbur replied, staring incredulously from a few feet away. “What do you mean apples aren’t a fruit? They’re- they’re literally the first thing someone thinks of when they think of fruit-” 

Tommy crossed his arms and sized Wilbur up. The large sweater hanging off his frame folded along with his crossed arms. He looked completely unassuming - less in the way of a lamb and more in the way of a sheathed blade - down to the thick-soled boots he had forgotten to re-tie. Tommy considered reminding Wilbur just why he stopped at the fountain. 

He kept his mouth shut. The idea of Wilbur eating dirt after trying to one-up him was far too awesome to pass. 

Tubbo shook his head, resigned. “Tommy, we’ve been over this.” 

“You know I’m right! You’re just too scared to admit it, I know!” 

“Really, Tommy?” Wilbur lifted a brow and scoffed. “What- what possible evidence do you have to support your claim?” 

Tommy tried to convey all the wisdom he possessed with a condescending eye roll. It failed. 

“I don’t need evidence, bitch-” The words scrambled out of his lips after he realized he had forgotten to speak- “I just know. And I’m a fucking genius, so that’s all I need.” 

“Apples aren’t a fucking vegetable!” 

Tubbo’s wheezing laughter softened the outrage clear in Wilbur’s face. Wilbur wrung his hands in the air before dragging them down his cheeks - unintentionally, the skin warped into a perfect imitation of a ghoul. 

Tommy barely restrained his amusement. “They are though. They kind of are, Wilbur, trust me.” 

“I’m not trusting a child who thinks apples are anything but a fruit-” 

“They aren’t fruit! I’ve been over this - try using your ears, bitch!” 

“I swear to fucking-”

Abruptly, Tubbo buzzed. Wilbur faded from his focus - he needed to worry about his getaways, not their very important discussion on the classification of apples. He tensed up, glanced at Tubbo, and prepared to bolt. 

“Can you please, just for once, let me bring you to Phil?” 

He took the dry statement as his cue to start sprinting. Wilbur took his sprinting as a cue to grab his arm. 

“Uh, what’s going on?” Wilbur asked, grip strengthening on his bicep as Tommy furiously began to wriggle. 

In the corner of his eye, he caught Techno becoming more discernible and lifting his arms. “Unimportant. Just- Wilbur, please do me a solid and hand Tommy over.” 

Tommy screeched in response, now using his hand and foot to aid his escape. He tilted his head up just in time to see Wilbur’s delighted grin. 

“Is something going on?” He didn’t like how much interest laced Wilbur’s tone. “Did Tommy do something wrong?” 

“Unimportant Wil- just pass him over.” Techno didn’t even bother to hide his entertainment. Tommy looked to Tubbo pleadingly, only for the grip on his arm to release. 

“I mean, he can do what he wants. He is his own person, you know,” Wilbur reasoned. Despite nodding furiously in agreement, Tommy took the opportunity to take a few steps back - he never knew when that sort of advantage would come in handy. 

“Yeah! I’m my own person, bitch!” 

Techno scratched at his temples before locking Wilbur in with a meaningful stare. “I don’t think that works here. Tommy here is hiding a serious, potentially fatal injury and is refusing to get it looked at.” 

Everyone froze. Wilbur’s grin disappeared, replaced with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. 

He decided to add Techno to the growing list of people he hated. Fuck him. Fuck him and his purposefully misleading words. 

Wilbur seemed to finish his mental argument. A part of him wished for his past to not show his tendency to hide injuries. Wilbur didn’t need any more inclination towards Techno’s side. 

“You said that you needed to bring him to Phil, yeah?” Wilbur asked coolly, resolve hardening in time with Tommy’s sinking gut. 

“Yup.” 

“Well guys, this seems like an awfully good time to leave-” 

As two pairs of hands lurched for his collar, he grabbed Tubbo’s hand and ran. 

If Tommy were being honest, he would admit that he was absolutely shit at running away. Depending on only last-second decisions and half-formed contingencies paled in comparison to what his assailants could do. They had the blessing of thinking ahead. He didn’t. 

Tommy decided not to be honest with himself. It never helped. 

When Tubbo tugged on his hand and pulled him into a turn, he remembered that he should be de-escalating the situation before he got demolished. 

“He’s being intentionally misleading!” He shouted over his shoulder, letting Tubbo drag him wherever. Even if he was faster, Tubbo could at least see where he was going. 

“Yeah! He’s- he doesn’t have an injury, he has a birth defect! And it’s not fatal!” 

He silently began to thank Tubbo. The thought cut short when a trident landed right in their path. 

“And why hasn’t he told anyone about it?” Wilbur called from behind - his years of experience estimated the distance. A solid twenty feet. They could work with that. 

Tubbo turned them onto a new road, pushing through the crowds with his shoulder. He glanced at one of the nearby storefronts; a floor to ceiling window found on one of the roads leading to the prime path. Tubbo could use the main road to get away - although, he wasn’t sure what Tubbo was truly planning. 

“Do you need anything?” He whispered under his breath, an image of the city’s routes popping into his head. Without any geographical advantages and no good alleyways, they needed to think of some sort of trap. He urged himself faster. His lungs burned in his chest. 

“Not sure,” Tubbo responded. “I don’t see- I don’t see anything good. We might have to get on the prime path and work from there. Wait-” 

Tubbo grabbed something from a nearby stall. Breaths escaping him in short gasps, he slammed the edge of something into Tommy’s palm. 

“On my signal-” He grunted as he pushed past another person- “Run to the right, bend low, and hold this tight.” 

He nodded, grip tightening on the string in his hands. A small laugh choked underneath his quick breaths - Tubbo was a fucking genius. 

Tubbo pulled him around a corner. Tugged his hand down. 

He dutifully assumed the position as the end of a tripwire. 

“They turned- oh shit-” 

Right before his eyes, he watched as the Blood God and the Fabled Madman ate dirt. Their outraged shouts sang beautifully in his ears. 

“Now! Run back! Run back!” 

He didn’t need to be told twice, his legs already prepared to bolt - the wonderful sight of the two men sprawled across the ground had to be ignored, he supposed. With careless speed, he did as he was told. A hand quickly slithered into his. 

“There’s a cellar we can hide in,” Tubbo whispered hurriedly. “It opens from the outside. We can just go- here!” 

A door jutting out from underground focused in - squashed between a bakery and a drinks store. It likely shared space between the two, although he couldn’t know for sure. He slammed open the door and jumped in, his unintentional cheer quickly stifled by a hand. 

Tubbo efficiently closed the latch. Immediately, they were bathed in darkness and the scent of fruity liquor. 

“Well,” He murmured, not taking long to adjust to total blindness. “I think we lost them.” 

Tubbo snorted. Together, they settled into the long hour of waiting in darkness.

*** 

“Do you know what this reminds me of Tubbo?” 

Tubbo glanced up from the cramped walls, hands running against the side of a building. Despite looking practically trapped in the tight space - he was scuttling sideways, for fuck’s sake - he squinted his eyes easily at Tommy’s trailing form. 

“I don’t know, what?” 

“Our first days here,” Tommy replied softly, small smile unnoticeable as he faced the wall he gripped. “Remember those days?” 

Tubbo scoffed without real heat. “You mean when you nearly got yourself banished because you couldn’t resist antagonizing every important person you met?” 

“Don’t act as if you had nothing to do with it! Besides, I was making friends-” 

“Making enemies,” Tubbo interjected. Fondness coated his words. “You were making enemies under the guise of doing inflammatory things as some, like, bonding thing.” 

“I mean, it worked.” 

His fingers burned slightly from clinging to the hard wall. He trusted Tubbo to tell him when they were through this little shortcut - if the rapidly tightening pressure in his chest said anything, it would say to get out as soon as possible. 

Tubbo laughed under his breath. “It always does.” 

They continued squeezing through the passage in silence. Nostalgia - with its honey-dipped fingers and soothing hums - slipped between the cracks of their conversation. Tommy made sure to bump his hip against Tubbo’s when he got close enough. 

“Techno and Phil feel kind of familiar, don’t they?” Tommy said finally. Memories of old, blurred escapades ripped him from the present. 

“They do. They really do.” 

Tubbo dragged him into open air. With practiced ease, they melted into the scenery. 

“Anyways. Let’s get the fuck out of here before those dumbasses ruin our fun.”

***

He glared at the gaudy poster plastered to one of the city boards. At his side, he heard Tubbo snort. 

There - in crude, almost mocking letters - hung a bounty on his head. 

“Tubbo, this is- this is fucking ridiculous. I’m blind, not an outlaw.” He crossed his arms across his chest and planted his feet, hoping to intimidate the parchment off the weathered wood. 

“I mean, it sure looks like it.” 

Tommy gasped at the amused grin on Tubbo’s face. “Fuck you! You’re not the one being made to look like a criminal when you’ve done nothing! I’ve- I’ve been on my best behavior - being treated like this is very offensive.” 

“What’s it say though? On the bottom line? Is- is it-” Tubbo squinted his eyes at the paper. 

“Well then, let me tell you!” He didn’t acknowledge Tubbo’s quick ‘thanks’, instead boiling all of his outrage into his reciting. “It says, ‘whoever brings Tommy ‘TommyInnit’ alive to either Philza Minecraft or Technoblade will be paid twenty emeralds and a free tool repair’. And- holy fuck, I hate them- they made a sign-up sheet! For teams! Sapnap signed up for one of them- Tubbo, stop laughing at me!” 

Tubbo refused to stop laughing. He chose to glare at him instead of the paper, watching both unfocused figures stutter at the sight and one focused Tubbo clutch himself as he wheezed. 

“It’s- it’s become a competition,” Tubbo laughed and thoughtlessly adjusted his rumpled green shirt. “It’s- holy fuck, it’s a manhunt!” 

“Dream,” Tommy sneered. A faint grin pulled at his face when Tubbo’s laughter started up again. 

“I definitely feel like they’re escalating this, but it’s pretty funny so- oh shit.” 

Tubbo grabbed his hand. The light atmosphere vanished with the touch. 

“I see Techno,” He whispered, fingers twitching around the back of his hand. “He’s just down the road. And- shit, run.” 

With the sudden order, Tubbo burst into a sprint. Tommy couldn’t do much more than follow. 

He knew exactly where the road would lead them - straight into the inner city, where low roofs and barely-planned paths screamed for upkeep that the kingdom couldn’t afford. Although not the most welcoming to tourists and only held together by the efforts of its people, he had become well acquainted with its layouts - in a gentle, human way, it felt most like home. He knew Tubbo felt the same. 

They spent a lot of their time in the inner city. For the first time since the beginning of the whole debacle, he knew exactly what Tubbo was thinking. 

Tubbo cut him out of his thoughts, his quick turns not hard to predict. “Techno is after us, along with others.” 

“You know who?” 

“Wilbur, Phil, Quackity, and Sapnap-” He glanced over his shoulder, hissing- “And his dogs. Sapnap brought his dogs.” 

Shit. 

Of course the renowned hunter would bring his fucking dogs. 

He attempted to even out his breathing - a hard task, considering the furious tempo of his steps. “Alright. Alright. Bird’s eye?” 

The pavement beneath his feet morphed into jagged cracks. Tubbo squeezed his hand once.

“At the fletcher’s shop, the one with the low wall. Run straight past after.” 

“You all stretched out?” He murmured, furiously ignoring the shouts from behind them - he couldn’t bring himself to ignore their explicit rally cry, but he cut himself some slack. Tubbo tilted his head from side to side, neck cracking with the movement. 

“Not nearly enough.” Tubbo grinned sharply. “But it’ll have to do.” 

They turned a corner. Housed between two wilting bushes, he noticed a familiar slab of gray; jutting out from its easily reachable corners were two support beams, both of which held up a sturdy overhang. 

Tubbo tugged his hand down. He immediately braced, legs set wide and back hunched over. A heavy weight pushed against the middle of his back, nearly forcing him to crumble - he froze himself still before he fell into an embarrassing heap. Breathed out. 

The weight on his back eased. He rushed forward, a strange surge of exhilaration echoing in his veins.

“Wait, why the fuck did they-” 

Tubbo whistled loudly from above, two quick notes to signify his position. He didn’t need his vision to know how he looked - jumping efficiently between rooftops, body maneuvering in ways he could only dream of achieving. The thought sent a wild cheer past his lips. 

“Suck it, fuckers!” He yelled out, tuning out the strange looks from passers-by. It wasn’t hard. After all, he couldn’t even see most of them. 

A sharp whistle, downward inflection. He glanced to his right and scrambled into the alleyway he hadn’t even seen. 

“Why is Tubbo jumping across the rooftops?” Someone - Quackity, he realized - shouted. The noise clocked in about twenty feet away. His feet continue to slam patterns into the ground. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, bitch boy?” 

He hurriedly turned to the left in time with Tubbo’s whistle - upward inflection, slightly out of breath. He trusted Tubbo to guide him true. 

From the sky, Tubbo could see everything - especially several assailants, even if they had the knowledge to split up and corner. Blindly, he bounced over a knocked pot and past rows of back doors. 

Tubbo would lead him true. He knew it as much as he knew the sky to be blue. 

Stuttered whistle, followed by a quick one-two. Quackity screeched as he doubled back and ran straight past. 

“That was fucking dirty!” Quackity yelled, incensed voice much closer than he would have liked. “What the hell was that? What the actual hell was that?” 

He leaped over a fence just after the next signal. “It’s called the moves, Big Q! I’m not surprised you don’t know them!” 

He tuned out Quackity’s protests, focusing on the grassy patch of land he was quickly running through. If he took the first left and second right, he would be at his railroad. 

Hesitantly, he forced his own whistle into the air. At the energetic confirmation - along with a second, much poorer attempt to misdirect - he ran with confidence and a path in mind. 

A shrieking note warned him to lurch forward and roll.

“Really Wilbur? Resorting to violence? I- I thought you were too good for that!” He didn’t bother to look to his side - Wilbur could be a real dick to handle, but he couldn’t right himself so quickly after a heavy tackle. 

“Fuck you, you child!” 

“Go fuck yourself!” 

He scrambled into his left turn. Shivering, terrified cold tugged at his stomach and legs; he could just barely take two people on at once, but it would definitely take longer than the time needed for the three others to reach him. Already, he could hear barking. 

With slight hysteria, he reminded himself that Tubbo hadn’t told him to fight. Therefore, he should keep on running. 

He turned onto the second right. 

Rapidly focusing in was a small checkpoint on his railroad - at it, a minecart only half-loaded. Behind him, the steadily gaining yells of his assailants. Sweat stung the back of his neck, shooting pains constricting his lungs. 

One short, affirmative note. 

He launched himself into the piles of rough ore, flipped the lever at his side, and let his fate be decided by the road into the unknown. 

“What the fuck- he’s in the minecart! He’s getting away! He’s getting-” 

Although the minecart rocked dangerously down the railways - threatening to topple him on a whim - he watched the rapidly unfocusing forms and cheered. Belatedly, he remembered to grip the cart’s sides. 

“This is bull- does any- fuck-” 

Soon, he could only hear the shrieking of metal wheels. 

He slumped into his seat and sighed, the reprieve in action a miracle for his worn-out body. Running for so long at such a quick speed sapped his energy more than he wanted to admit - he may have an odd propensity for endurance-type runs, but they still exhausted him greatly. His rapidly ruralizing surroundings became a background for his rest. Although to call it a background was an exaggeration - in reality, it was a blurring mass of color he could just barely discern. 

With another deep breath, he shifted more comfortably between his poking neighbors. He wished for Tubbo to be by his side instead. 

“Okay, game plan,” He muttered to himself, vaguely registering the scenery meld into only green. “This railroad has to be going somewhere on the outskirts of the city.” 

The cart rocked around him in agreement. A rush of adrenaline shot through his veins. 

“The only roads that go all the way out into the forest are the ones to the mines, right?” 

Inexplicably, dread pooled in his gut. 

“I feel like I’m forgetting something. What is it? Shit, what- right!” 

He had an unfinished road meant to go to Schlatt’s house. 

Just as the thought finished in his head, the cart turned and sent him tumbling into the wilderness.

His arm screamed at the impact, harsh ground beating against his shoulder and back as he tucked into a roll. Thankfully, he had been ejected in a relatively flat area - the only thing keeping him moving was the initial inertia from the impact. Slowly, he rolled to a halt. 

He stood up, arm and shoulder aching. Fuck that. 

Instead of assessing himself, he let his arm hang limp and retrace where he rolled out - being stuck in the woods would most certainly spell his unhappy demise. Thankfully, he had set out markers to designate where the future tracks would go. He had colored them bright red to help with his vision. He liked red. 

The crash must have hit harder than he thought. 

With the ease of practice, he ignored it and began to run. 

All he knew was that he had to keep pushing forward - he could just barely hear distant shouting, the sound jumpstarting his nerves. He just had to keep following the red marks, avoid falling, and get to Schlatt’s house. Two steps at a time. He kept on pushing. 

Burning sliced into his skin with every step. He didn’t care. 

He didn’t focus on why he was running. He just knew he had to. The trees whispered warnings of danger, urging him to continue pushing and pushing and pushing. Both eyes on the red and his ears waiting for some sort of whistle, he listened to the trees. 

At last, he made it to a clearing. He stumbled towards a vague shape of brown, the slight change in hue the only clue he had to separate it from the other tree trunks. 

Schlatt’s cabin. 

Once he got close, he slammed his fist into the front door; memories of old tours swirled in his mind as he knocked, the image of a focused Tubbo at the forefront of his sight. The sound of far-away chatter mingled with the rustling of the woods. 

The door - a beautiful dark wood he realized he helped create - opened. A confused Schlatt peered through the entrance, hair slightly combed and gray sweatshirt fitting well. 

“Tommy? The fuck-” 

“No time to explain-” He shoved himself through the doorway, footsteps unmatched- “Just- I need you to hide me. Do you have any basements I can hide in? A box?” 

Schlatt scoffed and refused to close the door. “Kid, why are you in my house? You can’t just barge in without so much as a- oh.” 

His eyes widened, jaw going slack as he glanced down. Tommy copied the gesture and glanced at his arm - where his skin should have been was a patchwork of bloodied raw red. 

“Are you okay?” Schlatt questioned, voice higher than before. Tommy waved him away - he needed to find a hiding spot, damnit, he could hear them closing in. In the end, he could always get patched up by Tubbo. He couldn’t do that if he got caught. 

“It’s fine.” His eyes darted between the warm brown walls and rich-colored blobs. “Do you know where I can hide? Anywhere?” 

Schlatt closed the door, taking a step forward. “Uh, kid. Can you please give me some sort of explanation before you give me another heart attack?” 

Louder now, he heard the shouts. Some barking. In desperation, he forced his gaze up. 

Rafters. 

Without a second thought, he sprung up and grabbed at the wooden rafter, hands just barely making it around the wood beam. He hauled himself up - painfully, very painfully, but in the end successfully. At the last second he flattened himself between the ceiling and the beam. Hopefully, they wouldn’t look up. 

“Kid, what the fuck-” 

Another knock came from the door. The melody sounded gentle, cordial - the person knocking must have been unhurried. 

He closed his eyes just as he heard the door creak open. 

“Hey, Schlatt! It’s been a while!” 

“It has, it has!” Even behind his blind eyes, he could tell that Schlatt meant the warmth in his tone. “It’s been what- two weeks? Three weeks?” 

Wilbur responded cordially, sounding only slightly exhausted. “Somewhere around that range. Anyways- have you seen Tommy?” 

“Tommy?” Schlatt parroted. He silently thanked Schlatt’s ability to sound completely oblivious. 

“Yeah, Tommy. He’s been avoiding Phil and running away from everybody. We just want him and Phil to talk, you know, and not flee like a little gremlin.” 

“So- what, you’re trying to talk to him against his will?” 

A chorus of giggles. His eyes shot open - vaguely, he could make out five different shapes crammed into the doorway. 

“Well, yeah,” Wilbur’s words washed over him easily. “But it’s pretty much just a joke. If he seriously wants it all to stop, he can just say the word.” 

“Oh. Okay. That’s- I want to say relieving, but frankly, no part of this situation feels relieving.” 

“So-” That was Techno, he recognized that drawl- “Have you seen Tommy?” 

He saw Schlatt’s head tilt up, locked onto the browns of his eyes. Furiously, he shook his head. 

After a moment, he watched as Schlatt pointed up - directly at him. 

Awkwardly, he dropped his hand from the rafter and let it hang, waving it from side to side. Although he couldn’t see them clearly, he knew all of the hunters must have trained onto him as soon as Schlatt lifted his finger. With a quick breath, he spoke. 

“Uh. Hey guys.” 

***

Despite his wish to do anything but, he jumped down from the rafters. His perfectly normal descent was met with shouts of victory and the figures bursting through the door. He focused more on the large dappled dog yipping at his feet. 

Hands grabbed his shoulders. He looked up just in time to recognize one of Wilbur’s sweaters. 

“Bro, can you please hold him better,” Quackity whined, his face popping into his vision. “We spent so fucking long just trying to get him, I don’t want to go through all of that again.” 

He shook the hands off his shoulders and whirled around - in doing so, he registered the general positions of everyone in the room. “Oh shut up! You weren’t even there the whole time! You signed up- what, today or some shit?” 

“None of your business,” Quackity huffed, arms crossing. 

“And you!” He turned to where he remembered seeing green and pointed an accusatory finger. “What the fuck? You set up a cash reward to have me fucking hunted down? Bruh, that’s not pog.” 

In his periphery, he recognized a Schlatt-like figure taking a step forward and lifting what he assumed to be arms. “No fighting in my fucking house!”

Everyone went respectfully silent. 

“Now, before we hash whatever the fuck is going on out, I say we be seated. Anyone want drinks?” 

He didn’t have a chance to respond before the hands were on him again and leading him to a couch. A part of him realized that he must have spaced off a bit - a few of his own steps hadn’t registered and the idle chatter signaled that some time had passed. The abrasive noise of grinding coffee beans scraped inside his ears. 

The soft material of the couch cradled him as he fell into it. Crossing his legs - in the process of doing so, he remembered to take off his shoes - he decided that he liked the long coffee table. 

“You good?” Wilbur asked. He felt himself wobble slightly as he turned to face him. He waved his hand and belatedly remembered the origin of his pain. 

Wilbur’s eyes widened, hand darting out to pull at his wrist. “Shit- that looks nasty. Techno, do you mind asking for a first-aid kit?” 

“It’s not actually very bad-” His voice seemed just slightly out of his control- “It just looks like shit. All scratched up and what-not. Am I bleeding?” 

“A little bit. What happened?” 

He hummed, eyes scouring his own arm to spot any droplet of welling blood. “I got launched out of the minecart because I didn’t see that the tracks ended. It was honestly dope as shit. I should- ooh, I should give myself a nickname, a super heroic one. Like- like rocketman. What do you think about rocketman? I think it’s pretty cool.”

“I think we need to check your head,” Techno replied, switching positions with Wilbur on the couch. Tommy pursed his lips. Tubbo would have liked rocketman. 

“I did hit it a bit,” Tommy mused, instinctually lifting his arm up to be inspected. “I hit everything, Big Man. Honestly, I feel like a huge fucking bruise.”

Techno grunted an affirmative, effectively ending the conversation. Through the somewhat worrying lightness of his thoughts, he listened to the chatter in the air - Sapnap seemed to be in the middle of recounting a story from a brief stint in the jungle. 

The air smelled of earthy fragrances and cedarwood. He only slightly hissed every time Techno poured on some healing potion. 

“Alright, we have some water for Wilbur, tea for Techno, and a hot choccy for the kid.” 

Tommy leaned his head back and glared, refusing to indulge in the self-aggrandizing smirk currently taking up most of Schlatt’s face. The cup was shoved into his open hand nonetheless. With an angry groan, he shoved the drink up to his face and spied at the figures taking their own seats. 

“Hot chocolate is actually fucking great, so consider yourself owned,” He said, forcing a blistering hot gulp of liquid down his throat. Settled on the loveseat just a few feet away, he caught Sapnap lift his own mug in alliance. Quackity did the same. 

Holding his hands up in surrender, Schlatt backed into the seat directly across from Sapnap. “Hold up, I never said it wasn’t good.” 

“You implied it!” 

“Oh my- guys, it is way too early to be arguing about the merits of hot chocolate.” 

Tommy snatched his arm out of Techno’s grasp and frowned. “It’s the middle of the afternoon, Sapnap - how could it possibly be too early?” 

Heated debate rose around him, the words filtering into his ears before quickly fading away. He instead shifted himself into the couch’s corner - it gave him a better view of their impromptu semicircle and the people within it. For an aching moment, he wished for Tubbo to join it. 

The rich hues of Schlatt’s house glittered underneath the window’s filtered light. It reminded him a bit of a painting - dramatic, bold, the slightest bit overwhelming. 

He realized that he definitely needed Tubbo. If he was thinking about paintings, he certainly had to be going off the deep end. 

“So,” Phil started, the chatter ceasing as he spoke. “Tommy. Do you want to have this conversation alone or are you fine doing it here?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He replied, resting his mouth against the lip of his mug. The ceramic was colored in a muted red. In the back of his mind, he forced his future self to not steal it. 

“I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable.” 

He quickly glanced between each seated person, panic gripping at the nicks in his skin. If Phil had just mentioned it in passing, he would have been fine; building it up so much made it feel larger than life. 

“I’m not.” He choked slightly before clearing his throat. “Not uncomfortable, anyways. So- what do you want to talk about?” 

“Well-” 

A knock at the door. 

“Seriously?” Quackity groaned - he had to strain his neck to watch him stand. “Who the fuck- don’t worry guys, I’ll get it.” 

He listened closely to the light pattern currently thudding in the wood - a repeating four-count, the third beat hitting harder than the rest. Childlike hope bubbled through him as the door creaked open. 

“Hey- oh hi Quackity, what are you doing here?” 

“Tubbo!” 

The only thing that kept him from leaping up and into Tubbo’s unsuspecting legs was Techno’s hand against his shoulder. Instead, he waited for his friend to walk into his vision - he didn’t bother controlling the large grin pulling near-painfully across his face. He wiggled his shoulder to motion for him to sit. 

“Tubbo, you’re here- how are you, Big T? Did you get down okay?” 

Tubbo matched his grin, shaking out his leg as he sat heavily on the sofa’s armrest. “I got down alright, yeah. I guess they- uh, got you?” 

A dog barked in affirmation. Tubbo laughed under his breath. 

“Was I interrupting something?” He asked, eyes scanning the room. 

“No-” 

“Kind of. We were just getting into the thick of it, actually.” 

Tommy squinted menacingly at Techno as Tubbo continued, unbothered. “Oh, sorry. Well, don’t let me stop you.” 

“Thank you Tubbo.” Phil locked him back into a stare, his facial features just barely distinguishable. “Anyways- during the tournament, Techno said that you couldn’t see anything past around fifteen feet. Is that right?” 

“Yup,” He replied easily, ignoring the inadvertent gasps now filling the air. Thoughtlessly, he handed his mug of hot chocolate over to Tubbo - he would enjoy the drink more, and Tommy wanted his hands free. 

“And Tubbo called it a birth defect?” 

“I mean, from what we can gather, yes.” He shifted from side to side. “I couldn’t see well for as long as I can remember. There isn’t, like, anything else - my eyes are just a bit fucked.” 

“No way.” 

Tommy raised a finger in Quackity’s direction, sticking out his tongue. “Yes, way. What, you think I’m fucking lying? Why would I ever lie about something like that?” 

“I just can’t believe it would be that bad-” Quackity thrust a finger towards the dark brown void- “Here. Can you see the little figurine on the shelf? The one made of wood?” 

He squinted his eyes as if that would help him figure it out - it didn’t, obviously, he didn’t suddenly just gain proper vision. Tubbo snorted behind his mug. 

With an exasperated arch of his brow, he turned back to Quackity. “Are you fucking with me? I bet there’s nothing there. Tubbo, is he fucking with me?” 

“Nope,” Even without looking at him, Tommy could tell he was smiling. “There is a little figurine. I- I think it’s supposed to be a circle with legs? I don’t really know.” 

He voiced a quick thanks before murmurings rose in the air. Defiantly, he kept his eyes forward - if they wanted to make a big deal out of nothing, they could; the dull thudding in his chest would stay either way. For his entire life, he had to fight to just be on the same level as his peers. If Tubbo wasn't the one behind the judgemental whispers, then he would fare just fine. 

“Shit. That, uh, I think you’re going to need some pretty strong glasses,” Schlatt said, sounding completely unsure as to what to do. 

Wait. 

Tommy glanced up at Tubbo, comforted by the confusion on his face. “The fuck are those?” 

The room froze. Looks of unabashed incredulity met him anywhere he looked. 

“Oh, Tommy. You fucking idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! 
> 
> Honestly, this fic kind of became a bit of a battle to finish - I didn't really enjoy the plot I had decided to flesh out and I didn't enjoy my own writing in general. It's been a bit of a struggle to get anything done at the same pace I had before, which really sucks. This entire fic just feels a bit like an amalgamation of my own shortcomings from the past days. But hey! We just got to keep moving forward n shit!
> 
> But yeah. Tommy Is Nearsighted Pog


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